Picture; a small house in Swansea on a dark night, little me in yellow lily-of-the-valley pyjamas, angry parents, and a cat on a lead. A recipe for fun yes? Not quite so. My parents had recently taken my cat Idris (honestly) to the vet, and the vet said he shouldn’t be allowed outside on his own for a while. So the ‘rents had the bright idea of getting him a lovely fluorescent orange lead, so he could smell the fresh Welsh air but still be controlled (ahem). On said night, the ‘rents took Idris out in the garden for his premiere promenade, and needless to say, within five seconds all hell broke loose. Idris, like the wild tabby cat he was, broke free from the lead and made a dash for freedom into a hedge. Then followed a large amount of swearing, spitting and clawing, and my little self was hurried off to bed.